


It Bears Repeating

by dreaminginsepia



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 09:22:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3244454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreaminginsepia/pseuds/dreaminginsepia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU from 'Passion' (2x17) onwards. The fight between Jenny and Angelus goes very differently and all the characters have to adjust, especially Buffy. Much Jenny/Giles, also Buffy/Angel (but less, and not as cute, because that's not possible). Also published on Fanfiction.com under the same username.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He never knew exactly what it was that made him turn back.  
If anything, he should have been racing home faster than he had before. Even faster than the time he'd got halfway to school and realised he'd forgotten his books, or the time he'd been worried there was a six headed monster under his bed because of a small translation. But he hadn’t bothered tidying the flat for days, letting the books pile up in the corners and the empty bottles form a line on the counter as plate congealed in the sink. With no one else there to see the mess, why bother? Rupert Giles was well aware that this mindset was unhealthy, and illogical, and a betrayal to everything he normally believed, but the last few weeks had been full of betrayal and if wallowing in his own loneliness helped him to face its immutable truth, he would do his best. He was sad, and his house showed it.

But she was coming over – to talk.

He had no idea what it was she wanted to say to him. There had been a gleam in her eyes when they spoke, a barely repressed excitement. He could see her tapping her feet and (adorably) drumming her pens while she spoke to him. It was most curious. As he considered what exactly it could be she wanted to say to him that could lead to such excitement, his thoughts began to wander elsewhere. It wasn’t until he realised he was drifting into the left hand lane that he shook his head and reigned himself in, signalling to pull over on the side of the road.

‘Damn Americans.’ He muttered. ‘Couldn’t even pick the right side of the road to drive on’.

He checked behind himself, ready to leave again when suddenly it hit him. A wave of pure adrenaline: cool, clear, and sharp. It flooded his senses and pulled his muscles taught. He thrust his hand inside the habitual tweed and pulled out a stake, whipping his arm round to assault the inevitable assailant. A few seconds passed before he realised he really was alone in the car. No hidden vampire, no revenging demon, no eight headed monster. Just him and his Citroen, as ever. Frowning, he lowered the stake again and blinked confusedly. If there was no monster, why was he so alert? He was used to bursts of adrenaline, but this was something else. Normally they were easy to control, quick to pass and useful for sharpening his senses, but this had already begun to settle like a stone in his gut, weighing him down to the spot as slow panic spread through his system.  
Lodging the stake back in its inside pocket, he reached for his glasses and removed them, wiping their lenses as his frown deepened. The fear refused to dissipate, only growing in clarity as he carefully polished the edge of the frame. Sighing, he replaced them, carefully adjusting the arms so they sat right. 

And then he saw it.

In his panic to pull the stake out he must have dislodged the glove box. It had opened, spilling its contents over the passenger seat, and on top was a strip of photos from that infernal monster truck rally. Jenny had pulled him into the booth while he tried to balance the extra large soda and fries she’d insisted they buy ('it's for the experience, Rupert!').  
He’d just settled himself down onto the extremely small and slightly sticky stool when she’d turned and kissed his cheek unexpectedly as the first of the camera flashes went off. The resulting photo showed his wide eyes and comically open mouth in full, monochrome detail. By the time the second was taken the soda was soaking into the ground and he was very much returning the kiss, his hands holding the sides of her face like he was drowning. As he gazed at Jenny’s perfect profile and the spark of happiness burning bright in his face – the first time it had been seen for many years – he realised the truth that had taken him so long to find. He would have forgiven her had she been Angelus himself. He loved her with his heart and soul, and he forgave her utterly and entirely. He loved her. 

And she didn’t know that. Yet. She had to know. He had to tell her as soon as possible.

Grabbing the photo strip and tucking it in his pocket next to the stake, Giles slammed the car into drive and, tyres squealing, turned it round to hightail it back to the school. Had he been thinking straight he would have considered it likely she was on her way to his house now, and all he would be doing was confusing their trails. But he wasn’t thinking straight. He was thinking of her, and the stone in his gut got lighter and lighter the closer he came to her.

*

As she ran through the corridors, her heels clacking on the tiles and fear clouding her vision, Jenny found herself detachedly considering her own death. She hadn’t thought it would be like this. She wanted to die in bed, surrounded by love and fat grandchildren, but that seemed unlikely now. She knew there was no way she could outrun the vampire. Outmanoeuvre maybe, but he knew these corridors almost as well as she did and he had the considerable advantage of super strength and speed. She was a high school computer teacher in high heels. Maybe if she was lucky she could throw him off for a while and delay the inevitable, but that was all. Jenny Calendar knew she would die here and that knowledge drove away the fear. She would die here. That didn’t mean she’d make it easy.

*

Her car was here. Why was her car here? The stone sank deep into his stomach again as Giles drove round to the side of the school and saw flames licking through the windows of the computer classroom. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. Not even bothering to lock the car or take his key out the ignition, Giles threw the door open and ran inside the building.

*

He slammed into the door and Jenny felt a grim satisfaction. It was pointless certainly, but hell, if it was all she could do she would make her murder as difficult as humanly possible. Her heels beat out a staccato rhythm as she cursed herself for never just wearing sensible shoes. Even so, she managed to make her way up the stairs and was about to sprint down the corridor when she heard him.

‘JENNY!’

For a millisecond she stopped, and the clear head mortal panic had given her began to cloud at the sound of his voice.

‘JENNY!’ she heard again, and there was no doubt now.

‘RUPERT!’ she screamed back, turning to run when she glimpsed a dark shape winging its way towards her out the corner of her eye. Summoning all her strength she ran towards his voice, calling out his name as she heard hers in reply. He was getting louder and louder and she was so close – 

Then she turned the final corner and felt herself slam into someone. The hope in her eyes was replaced with terror as she looked up to see the dark, empty eyes of the man she’d failed staring back at her. 

‘Sorry Jenny. This is where you get off.’ He intoned with no small amount of sadistic mirth in his voice as his hands reached around her neck.

Everything crystallised and time seemed to slow as she registered the pressure of his hands on the fragile vertebrae and tendons. She ran through a thousand scenarios, but there was no way to escape this. The cliche turned out to be accurate, and the past began slipping away in front of her eyes.Her childhood moving from place to place and her adolescence, moving to California and starting college on every grant they would give her. Discovering computers and feeling like she’d found her place within the world as part of her new coven. Agreeing to undertake her role as vengencer, failing cataclysmically at it, and him. His face. His green, green eyes and the love she saw reflected in them. That speech he’d given on books that made her stomach flop and the first time he kissed her in the photo booth. Their third date, their fourth. Him giving her one of the keys to his flat and the first time she stayed over. His face on the pillow in the morning, gazing at her. If she died now, thinking of him, she died happy. As the moment shortened and she felt Angelus’s hands tense to deliver the final blow, his face swam even clearer into focus. She could smell him too - woodshavings and musk. Through the trance, she heard the apparition speak.

‘Go to hell’.

As Angelus’s eyes widened and he realised his mistake, Giles pushed his stake all the way in from behind. For one heart stopping second the pressure around her neck refused to fade and she thought he'd failed to hit his target. Her eyes widened even further and she briefly, morbidly, wondered if they'd pop out. Then with a sigh of anguish and a slight wind Angelus faded into ashes. As what was left of him dissipated, Jenny collapsed to the ground in a dead faint.


	2. Chapter Two

When she awoke, she was lying on her sofa with a blanket carefully draped over her. Something was whistling in the background, and as she blinked and her head cleared, she realised it was a kettle. That could only mean one thing.

'Rupert?' She called, and quick as a flash he was kneeling at her side.

'Jenny' he said, his voice filled with relief. 'How do you feel?'

She considered this for a millisecond, but there was nothing she could think of that even began to adequately express the waves rolling in her stomach or the way her heart felt like it had been kicked. So she went simple.

'Ok. I'll be ok. Rupert -'

'Yes?'

'I know where I am, I promise, but why am I here?'

His face clouded over and he looked down. She reached for his hand, resting on the side of the sofa. His palm was callused and rough, and she brushed her fingers over it curiously. Anyone who really thought he was a librarian (although in Sunnydale, who could really believe that?) should see his hands. They were the hands of someone who fought for their life, and fought hard. He looked up and smiled as he saw her gazing intently at them.

'Buffy keeps telling me I should invest in hand cream. Apparently I'll blow my 'cover' with hands like these.'

She quirked her lips at him and raised an eyebrow.

'Rupert. What is it?'

He sighed, looking down again.

'I hope you don't think it presumptuous that I came into your home without asking. I did take you to my place first, but - well, we weren't the first ones there.'

She frowned, and then it hit her.

'Angelus?'

He nodded slowly and sadly.

'There was music playing, roses on the stairs. I think he was planning a - a scene for me to - to come home to.'

'And I was going to be the centrepiece' she muttered, finishing his sentence aloud before the image hit her. 'Oh God, Rupert -'

She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand, feeling an answering pressure.

'How long was I out?' She asked, trying to block the mental image of her broken body lying posed as a plaything for a psychopath.

'Not long' came the response. 'Twenty minutes maybe? I drove fast. We both needed to get away from there.'

She nodded. 'And he's - he's -'

'Dead.' Rupert said grimly.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I watched him turn to ash and I saw his dust on the floor. I promise you Jenny, for better or worse, he’s dead.’

She nodded again, but as she did so her face began to crumple in on itself. Silent sobs wracked her shoulders as she leaned into him and he ran his hand through her hair, trying to calm her.

‘He – he was so close to – to - ‘

‘I know.’

‘If you hadn’t been there Rupert – oh God, if you hadn’t been there – ‘

‘I know.’

A few more tears fell as her breathing began to steady, and she looked up at him, her eyes red and her nose running. Rupert reached into his pocket and handed her his glasses cleaning handkerchief without a second’s hesitation. She smiled, and unceremoniously blew her nose on it before taking a few more deep breaths.  He watched the tear tracks dry into silvery lines on her cheeks and, reaching over, tucked an errant strand of hair behind one perfect ear. She froze slightly at the motion, then lifted her head to look at him. Her shy smile almost set his heart on fire.

'Thank you England. You saved my life.'

A smile began to break its way through the clouds on his face.

'Well, you gave me mine. I was returning the favour.'

Jenny raised an eyebrow at him and tilted her head slightly.

'Not literally I mean, although - well, although, that is debatable. But, well - I - I was alone before I met you, and I thought I'd be alone forever and I'd made my peace with that. That it was part of my - part of my duty, my fate as a watcher. To observe and protect, not to get – well, involved. Then you started talking about technopagans, and cyber covens, and casting demons out of the internet, and I realised that I was very much not alright with it anymore.'

He paused and looked down, gathering his courage and removing his glasses with his spare hand. She squeezed the hand she was holding again, and he smiled and looked up.  Jenny gasped slightly to see that his bright green eyes were filling with tears and suddenly she knew what he would say.

'I love you, Jenny. I love you more than I thought was possible for a - a dry old librarian like me. When I saw Angelus with his hands around your neck I thought for a second I'd lose you, and I snapped. You give my world colour, Jenny. You are - you are everything. I should have told you this morning, but I panicked. But nothing has ever come close to the fear when I thought I'd lose you. No demon, no vampire has ever made me as scared as Angelus did then. I love you. It bears repeating.'

The blanket beneath their hands was wet, and Jenny realised it was her own tears soaking through the wool. She sniffed, smiling at him.

'I'm sorry.' He said, and she went cold. He wasn't about to take it back, was he? Or tell her he loved her but they could never be together for some mystic reason? Screw mystic reasons. They needed each other.

Seeing the fear flash across her eyes, he shook his head quickly. 'Sorry, I mean,' he clarified, 'that I wasn't there sooner. Sorry it took me so long to tell you how I felt. Sorry it took so long for me to - to forgive you.'

She smiled, relieved. 'You saved my life, Rupert. Without you I'd be - well, we both know where I'd be.' She shook her head to clear the image. 'But I owe you my life. I should have told you the truth about who I really was sooner. I feel like I haven't been that person for years, and I tried my best to escape that life, that person. I would have saved everyone so much pain, but I was selfish and ignorant. But you only ever did what was right, and it's one of the reasons I love you. My feelings haven't changed from this morning, and truthfully, they haven't changed since our second date. I love you, Rupert Giles. Anyone who pretends to like monster trucks out of politeness is worth keeping.'

He sniffed, and now their tears were mingling on the blanket. Jenny reached her spare hand up and cupped the side of his face, wiping the tears away with her thumb.

In the background the kettle whistled, but they ignored it. As his hand caressed her cheek in the same way, she tilted her head and their lips met. It was a kiss filled with fire and fear, but above all she could almost feel the passion crackling between them on her skin. She had never kissed - or been kissed - like this. As they broke apart for air (and the kettle despaired of its existence), both were breathing heavily. Leaning forwards, she rested her forehead on his.

'I love you.' They said together, and it was both promise and truth.

 

*

 

For a few hours they managed to forget how close to destruction the world they’d created had come. It was like there was fire between them, crackling on their skin. Jenny found herself unable to breathe and Rupert felt himself losing twenty years in the space of a moment, feeling like Ripper again. She made him feel eighteen again, and he made her feel like she’d finally found a place to stop. No more moving, no more hiding – for either of them. It was a magic like nothing either of them had known before, and it wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that they collapsed, exhausted, in the cocoon of her double bed. Rupert held her in his arms tightly, his head resting on hers as he breathed in her hair. It smelt like coconut and her skin smelt like chocolate, and he decided then and there they were his two new favourite scents. They had never been so close, and he intended to never let her leave his arms again. Rubbing his thumb slowly across her arms, he closed his eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he drifted to sleep, still holding her close. For a few hours they were peaceful and still, but as the sun came up and light flooded through the window Jenny began to kick. The motion (and the well-aimed blow to his shins) woke Rupert up and he frowned at the look of fear spreading across her face. Then suddenly her eyes flew open.

‘RUPERT! RUPERT!’ she screamed, before collapsing, sobbing, into his arms.

‘Hush, hush. It’s ok Jenny, Everything’s alright. I’m here, you’re safe.’ He calmed, as her shoulders shook and his heart ached.

‘I’m, so, sorry.’ He faintly heard her stutter, and at that he drew his head back. She looked up, and his gut turned over at the sight of the tear tracks winding their way down her face again and the spots of red burning high on her cheeks.

‘You have nothing, nothing, to be sorry for.’ He said gently but firmly.

‘But if I’d told you, if you’d known – ‘

‘Then there would have been something else. And you didn’t know yourself, how could you possibly have told us?’

‘But I could have guessed – ‘

‘Jenny. You did what you thought was right. It’s one of the things I love about you.’ She smiled, slightly, to hear her own words repeated back to her, and a small corner of his heart cleared of the darkness. They really would be alright. Somehow he knew.

‘Rupert, there’s something I have to tell you.’

His face must have betrayed the worry this sentence caused him, because she ducked her head again, frowning. Wary of putting his hands anywhere near her throat (which was already covered in a sobering necklace of purple and black bruises), he made no movement, but let her continue.

‘What I was going to tell you yesterday – what Angelus came to the school for – why he tried to kill me. I was trying to – and I could have, I was nearly there – well, I managed to recover the ancient magicks. The curse, Rupert. I was trying to give Angelus his soul back.’

Jenny looked up. Whatever he’d been expecting, it hadn’t been that. His green eyes were wide and he seemed frozen to the bed.

‘Rupert?’ she tried, and he shook his head slightly and smiled sadly.

‘You really are wonderful, you know. You were trying to reverse the curse?’

‘No,’ she clarified, ‘I was trying to recast the curse. My people had – and have – a strange idea of vengeance. Although having met Angel, maybe they were onto something. I was very nearly there as well. I’d just managed to translate the words to the spell when Angelus came in. He must have found out from the magic shop owner. I went there to get an Orb of Thesulah. I hope he’s alive, he mentioned he had kids.’

She frowned slightly and sniffed, making a mental note to check on the shop. Then she heard a muttered exclamation from above and looked up.

‘What Rupert? What is it?’

‘You nearly died because of an Orb of Thesulah?’

She flinched at his bluntness, but he was obviously distracted, running through something in his head. So she nodded.

‘Oh Jenny,’ he sighed, and held her even closer.

‘Rupert, what is it?’ she repeated, increasingly confused.

‘I have one.’

‘You have an Orb of Thesulah?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where? I’ve never seen it on your shelves, and you gave me the full guided tour.’ She remembered the tour well. It ended with a tour of her very favourite room, and then her new favourite bed, and then – well. She flushed slightly as she heard him, shamefacedly, mutter something above her head, pulling her back to earth.

‘What?’ she said, assuming she’d heard wrong.

‘I’ve been – I’ve been using it as a very effective – well, as a paperweight. It’s on my desk in the library. Has been for weeks.’

She ran through the full range of emotions. Superficially, this was hilarious. One of the most important elements for the magick of her ancestors, and he’d had it keeping files and record cards in order. But as she snorted the full significance of his words hit her. If she’d known, she wouldn’t have gone to the magic shop. If she hadn’t gone to the shop, Angelus wouldn’t have known what she was trying to do. If he hadn’t known – would she have come so close to death last night?

‘Oh God’ she muttered.

Rupert passed her a tissue from the bedside table, and only then did she realise she was crying again.

‘I’ll be ok.’ She reassured him. ‘I’ll be fine.’

But he wisely ignored her and just held her through the sobbing, stroking her back and rocking her slightly. They would both be fine, he knew. He just didn’t know how long it would take.

 


End file.
